CHAPTER IX.

How Sir Folko fought with an old woman, and broke her stand of crockery-ware.

The voyage of Sir Folko de Montfaucon, and the two rescued damsels, was, alas! far different from that of the emir and Bertha von Lichtenried. No sooner had they lost sight of Carthagena, than the ocean-waves rose wildly against them, so that it was not without vehement struggles that they were able to reach the straits that divide Africa from Spain;--nay, when they tried to tack right over from Gibraltar’s high cliffs, in order that they might steer for Gascony, there arose such a terrible whirlwind, that Hernandez lost all command of his vessel. Fortunately, however, there were no rocks near enough to split against; but they were driven far out into the desolate sea, and there tost about so long, that, from the want of sufficient food and water, they were threatened with starvation, till, for the sake of the poor suffering damsels, they were glad at last to find a harbour, at an island which seemed uninhabited, and for which not one of the whole party knew even a name.

On this lonely strand, while Sir Folko, Don Hernandez, and the Count Vinciguerra, were busily employed in building a cottage to shelter the ladies, collecting rushes for the roof and soft moss for their beds;--in short, all that knightly gallantry would at such a time have achieved, the merchant Theobaldo amused himself all day long with the Magic Ring, enticing, by its strange and varied music, all the beasts of the forest, even the seals, sea-calves, and sea-horses, from the ocean around him, and at times laughing aloud at their strange dances and gambols. Sir Folko and Don Hernandez felt themselves roused to the utmost disdain and anger, because, for the sake of these silly diversions, Theobaldo should have neglected wholly the service of the two ladies that were intrusted to their care; and, as he now frequently brought the howling wild beasts and awkward sea-calves into the presence of Blanchefleur and Gabrielle, who were thereby disturbed and terrified, they resolved, whatever the consequences might be, to put an end to such conduct. After an adventure of this kind, the Knight of Montfaucon stepped forward, placed himself right before Theobaldo, and looked at the merchant steadfastly, with gleaming, wrathful eyes. The chevalier had now resumed his glittering armour, and looked so formidable, that the merchant, though wishing to conceal his agitation, could not help feeling embarrassed, and fixing his eyes on the ground. At length he said,--“What means all this?--You wish, perchance, to play the part of an old statue of Roland in the market-place, as you stand there so stern and motionless?”--“That is not my design,” answered Sir Folko; “but it shall be proved ere long how I shall deal with you, if your behaviour should not be more circumspect and quiet for the future.” “Ay, forsooth!” said Theobaldo, in his usual tone of calm defiance, “it might be as well to inquire first how I shall deal with you and all your party, if the question--‘Who is master?’--comes to be tried among us.”

“Sir,” answered De Montfaucon, in a tone of indifference and resolution, “you have indeed rescued my life, and have assisted much towards the rescue of these noble ladies;--through the ring, too, you are brought into possession of many powerful spells. For such reasons, however, you must not suppose that you can make game at will of a French baron and banneret, far less of the damsels who are now under his protection. In short, if you dare to terrify them once more with your abominable dances of wild beasts and fishes, then remember your own life is at stake, or, peradventure, the question to be determined is, Whether my sword or your witchcraft will obtain the victory?--The trial shall be made, however; on that score you can have no doubt.” “--Nay,” said Theobaldo, “I doubt not that your words would amply be made good; and it is, methinks, far better for us both if we should not bring it to the proof which of us is destined to bear the upper hand in conflict. Be satisfied then, and forgive me; for that of which you complain shall not happen again.”--Thereupon Sir Folko was appeased, and shook hands with Theobaldo; nor were the ladies ever more terrified by the dancing beasts and sea-monsters.

Not long after these events, the skies became once more free from clouds, and Don Hernandez gave orders to heave anchor, that they might pursue their voyage. At first the winds were favourable, and they doubted not that they should happily arrive at the destined port; but scarcely had they again reached the Straits of Gibraltar, when there arose of new, a frightful tempest, forcing the vessel back into the narrow seas, and driving it violently past Carthagena, towards Malaga; nor did the storm abate till they found themselves opposite to the coast of Genoa. The condition of the ship, now almost a wreck, and the distress of the two ladies, left them no choice. They resolved to cast anchor in the harbour of Genoa, and follow out the rest of their journey by land.

Scarcely had the damsels been safely lodged in a pleasant mansion at this town, and the requisite clothes, armour, and other necessaries been brought from the vessel, when the Knight of Montfaucon made a signal that Theobaldo should speak with him in a retired street of that city.--“Now,” said the knight, “confess freely, that we have been forced hither by your agency;--that you have all this while played your pranks for your own diversion and our annoyance;--in short, that, by means of your Magic Ring, you have raised the storm that always opposed us when we drew near Gibraltar!”--“Why then did you not address these questions to me when we were on board ship?” said Theobaldo; “then, perhaps, there had been time to make up for whatever faults I had committed.”--“I know not whether you now speak in mockery or earnest,” answered Sir Folko; “and, in truth, with such people one cannot expect to fare better. However, this is of little consequence; but, for my own part, I answer you in right earnest. Mark you!--whilst we were at sea, your sorcery and witchcraft might have been carried much farther, and the ladies who were under our protection might have perished thereby. Now, however, you have to deal with me alone, and I speak with you even as one Christian knight with another. Have you then, by your incantations, made game of us, and led us thus astray?”--“Not as a knight, but as an honest merchant, I answer you,” said Theobaldo, “that I did conjure up the storms by which our ship was driven on the wild waves; not, however, because I wished to make game of you for my own diversion, but because I had firmly resolved in my own mind, that it was better to land at Genoa than on the shores of France.”--“In Genoa, perchance, you may fare but hardly, sir merchant,” answered De Montfaucon, glancing at his sword; “though the first question may be, whether you have honour and courage enough to defend your own actions?”--“As to what you are pleased to call honour,” said Theobaldo, “I trouble myself little about the matter; but, as to my courage, it has been proved already, and may be proved again on occasions more important than any that are likely to occur at this time.”--“A pitiful excuse!” said Sir Folko; “the veriest coward or deserter has it in his power to speak as thou hast done. Without more circumlocution, however, be condescending enough to come straightway to the mark, and answer, whether thou art now willing to walk with me into one of the gardens by which we are here surrounded, and wherein we may quietly measure swords together, until one or other measures, with his own lifeless body, the ground that is to serve him for a grave?”--“Right willingly,” answered the merchant: “we shall soon find a fitting place for this encounter;--only follow me.”

Hereupon the merchant walked rapidly away, and the knight followed him with impatient strides. Ere long, however, it seemed to De Montfaucon as if he heard the voice of Theobaldo calling to him from behind; and, on looking round, he saw, to his utter confusion, that the merchant was also there. Nay, at the same moment, there started into life an hundred more shadows of the same figure, that grinned at him from windows of the neighbouring houses, and threatened him, sword in hand, from across the railing of the gardens; but though these might be shadows, yet in no one circumstance could they be distinguished from the true Theobaldo; so that, in his amazement, the knight wheeled round and round, not knowing whom he was to attack, till at last some one laughed aloud,--“Now, sir knight,” cried the voice, “you find that there are too many of us even for the Chevalier de Montfaucon to encounter, and your honour and courage may for this time go to sleep!”--Thereupon, in overpowering rage, the knight struck with his heavy sword at the phantom who had thus addressed him.--“Madman--madman! what wouldst thou do?--Alas, for my beautiful jars and pots!” cried a shrill voice beside him, and immediately all the Theobaldos had vanished away. The chevalier found himself opposite to an old woman, having broken, with one blow of his sword, her whole stand of crockery-ware. Indignant more than ever at the insolent mockeries of the merchant, he threw at her some gold coins, whereat the old woman’s lamentations were changed into gratitude and joy; then proceeded on his way to the house which had been provided for the two damsels.